


Touching

by lollyflop



Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Bondage, Dominance, Drinking, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Masturbation, Rope Bondage
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2018-11-16 03:01:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11244954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lollyflop/pseuds/lollyflop
Summary: When Shane learns that the farmer plans on leaving the valley, he takes a sudden interest in her.





	1. The First Touch

**Author's Note:**

> I really wanted to write something explicit with Shane, and I wanted him to begin the story with some confidence. No worries: he's still the same ol' Shane.
> 
> And we're just jumping right into the sexual content with this chapter!

I made my best attempt at sliding into the Stardew Saloon unnoticed. I really did. But as always, every eye in the joint turned my way as soon as I opened the door. Gus and Emily hollered welcomes, Marnie waved and patted a stool beside her, Clint blushed over his wobbly smile, Pam teetered on her stool while grinning hazily.  
So much for losing myself in a well-deserved beer.  
I stopped to make pleasantries with the locals, even though I was in no mood. And I tried to sound upbeat about the farm, even though I was lying through my teeth. By the time I sidled up to the counter to get a drink, I must’ve looked a little brittle because it was the first time Shane ever really spoke to me.  
“You look rough,” he huffed.  
I snorted, leaning on the bar and throwing a thumb behind me. I dropped my voice to a conspiratorial whisper; “The entire town seems to think I look like the goddamn sunshine and gossip train.”  
Shane laughed, though the smile didn't quite reach his eyes. He flagged Emily with two fingers, and she fetched a couple mugs from under the bar.  
“This one’s on me,” he said, settling onto a bar stool and watching Emily work. “I can always tell when someone needs a drink.”  
“Thank you, but don’t expect me to return the favor: as of today, I’m officially broke,” I sighed, plopping down.  
He frowned, casting a sidelong glance at me. “Didn’t you just move into that old ranch west of town?”  
I nodded. Emily put the beers down in front of us, and I gave her a halfhearted smile and nod as thanks before she bustled off. “It’s been one whole season,” I confirmed, then took a deep drink, licking the foam from my upper lip. “But it looks like I’ll be moving back to the city soon.”  
Shane cocked his head. “Why?”  
“Because I’m a shitty farmer,” I answered frankly.  
He snorted. “How bad can it be?” He lifted the mug to his lips, downing half the glass in one breath.  
“Oh, very bad. As in, spent just about all the money I had on seeds that went to shit with the wild rain we’ve been having. The two plants that did grow aren’t enough to buy any summer crops. The rest of my money got sunk into a sapling that apparently won’t produce a damn thing until fall,” I heaved in one fast breath. I paused to sigh. “So, basically, I’m fucked.”  
“Oh yeez! I’m so sorry, but wow!”  
I shrugged. “I know this is some city slicker nonsense, but I just assumed farming would be easy. Pretty much as soon as our ancestors stepped out of the caves, they were figuring this shit out. So why can’t I do it?”  
He shrugged, but his eyes were dark, his expression grim. He glanced down and saw that my mug was low, so he waved to Emily for two more.  
I tried to grab his arm. “Hey, man, I can’t let you to do that.”  
“Normally, I’m just buying them for myself. I stand over there until I’m drunk, then I wander home,” he said, gesturing broadly. “Tonight, I’m getting us both pleasantly buzzed.”  
I looked over at him suspiciously. “You’re not this nice.”  
He laughed, his eyes fixed dead ahead at the bar. “Nope,” he replied, taking a long sip.

We stepped out into the brisk night air together, several beers down but not nearly drunk. I heard peepers in the distance and smiled ruefully to myself. Summer was on its way to the valley, and I wouldn’t be around to experience it. I had started out my adventure with big dreams of an orchard, chubby little piglets, corn silk blowing in the breeze. But all those things had slipped through my fingers.  
When Lewis had challenged me to raise some parsnips to get my feet wet, I figured it would be unfuckupable. I was shocked when crows ate up a few of the tender little leaves poking through the soil, but the rest of the crop did okay–not stellar, but passable. So I quickly took the proceeds and bought all of the potato seeds I could afford while still having enough gold to get by. And that’s when–  
“Walk with me.” He wasn’t really asking, but I didn’t really have anything better to suggest. I locked arms with him and we headed north. Shane was silent as we strolled and it was nice. I loved that Shane was the official town jerk, just by virtue of not falling all over himself to become best friends with everyone he met. A few of the times I’d tried to make conversation with him, he had been unfriendly–once, bordering on outright hostile–but it reminded me of people I saw on the streets of Zuzu City. Not really meaning to be rude so much as annoyed that you were prying into their business when they were so clearly busy.  
“Did you grow up here?”  
“Nope, I was a city boy,” he replied, glancing down his nose at me.  
I hummed my approval. “I knew I liked you,” I said with a smirk.  
He returned the sly smile.  
We approached the Community Center. “Watch this,” he whispered, sneaking up towards the door and pulling a hairpin out of his pocket. I watched with amusement as he prepared to pick the lock–and quite theatrically, at that.  
“No, watch this,” I insisted, stepping forward. With a flourish, I reached out and turned the doorknob. “And voilá!”  
He blinked confusion up at me. I chuckled and explained, “Lewis unlocked it so I could chase out some rats.”  
He looked in the door, still confused, still crouched with the pin in his hand. “Well shit,” he sighed. “There goes my entire pick-up act.”  
“Nice try.” I smiled at him as he stood and dusted off his knees. “Anyway, after you.”  
He stepped through the door, surveying the derelict space. “I like it in here. It feels like someplace totally different than the rest of the valley.”  
He had no idea. “So you’re trying to pick me up, are you?”  
He smirked. “Only if you want me to.”  
I laughed. “I think so,” I drawled. “But I already told you that I’m not here for the long haul.”  
He came closer. Through a smirk, he whispered, “That’s perfect.” He kept walking until his chest bumped into mine, and he kept going, walking until my back bumped into a wall. His head dipped into my neck and he kissed my collarbone just above my shirt, his teeth scraping my skin. “Let me know if it’s too much,” he said, his breath chilling the kiss on my flesh. I nodded, my mouth hanging open in a gasp, my eyes wrenched shut.  
Shane did not strike me as the forward type.  
His hands snaked from my hips up to cup my shoulder blades, then down my arms and up my sides again. All the while, his lips, tongue and teeth were on my neck and breastbone, his stubble scratching my skin. I shivered, my fingers digging into his thick hair.  
His eyes checked mine as his fingers grasped the hem of my shirt. I nodded again and his hands swept under my shirt, pulling the cups of my bra down under each breast so his thumbs could circle my nipples.  
My hands grew antsy as he touched me. I stretched to touch him, but he stepped out of my reach. “Ah-uh,” he mumbled. “Not just yet.”  
I made a disappointed sound and he chuckled, stepping close again and raking his teeth along my earlobe. “Now now,” he whispered. His voice was teasing. “We’re just making out.”  
I laughed, and it came out deep and throaty. “We can’t make out with my hands all over you?”  
“Tomorrow, maybe.”  
I lifted an eyebrow and opened my mouth to deliver a saucy retort, but he crashed his body into mine, his lips swallowing my words as he rolled my nipples between his fingers. I hummed into his kiss, rocking my hips to grind against his. Without breaking the kiss, a finger hooked the front of my jeans and his other hand dipped in. He spread his palm across my belly. Catching my eyes, he waited for my nod.  
“Yes,” I exhaled.  
With that, he reached lower, his middle and ring ringers sliding on either side of my clit. He began to work his fingers, touching me near but not quite exactly where I wanted it most–and it was exquisite. Squeezing the hood, working the slick flesh around and over my clit with the pads of his fingers. My hips bucked, angling for more sensation, a more direct touch.  
“Tell me,” he demanded, brushing his thumbnail over my nipple.  
“M-more,” I sputtered, giving him a pouty look.  
“More what?” His eyes were dark, his lips in a flat line, as if squeezing back a grin.  
My eyes locked on his. I began to rock my hips against his fingers with more purpose, with focus. I worked my hips until his fingers were right where I wanted them, then I worked against them just how I wanted. “Do it like this,” I spat. “More. Harder.”  
He finally gave into his smirk. His touch began to match my pace, leaving my free to let my body relax into the sensation. I sighed, letting my eyelids fall closed. The pressure and the pace was delicious, drawing lazy moans from my lips.  
Slowly and expertly, his pace began to pick up. “Fuck,” I spat all at once, biting my lip, catching his eye. My hips jerked into his palm, bracing my weight on his shoulders. “Yes. Don’t stop.”  
I found myself gasping into the crook of his neck, my head spinning with want and the smell of his skin. With my head tucked there, I caught a glimpse of the logo on his hoodie and the gears in my brain spun, a dim awareness hitting my mind.  
“You work for Joja,” I mumbled just as my body lurched forward and an orgasm sparkled through my core. I sputtered a few curse words, my eyes wrenched shut as his fingers drew circles around my clit, his other hand cupping my ass to support my weight over weak legs.  
He placed a kiss on my head, chuckling into my scalp. “You’re awesome.”  
I laughed. “No, you.” I looked up at him. “You want me to–”  
He shook his head. “Nope, I had my fun,” he laughed. “Maybe tomorrow. If you want.”  
I nodded. “I think so.”  
“Thennn, I’ll see you at the Stardrop,” he said, shoving his hands in his hoodie pockets. “On me.” With that, he walked away, out into the night, leaving me to catch my breath.  
I felt my tongue wanting to test something. “Shane,” I said into the darkness. I realized I was smiling wide.


	2. Wetter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shane and Player head to the lake.

I spent the day getting the farm ready for sale. My scythe and I hacked at weeds and culled the stray hay that threatened to overtake the vegetable field. I even tilled up a little dirt to make it look fertile, prime for cultivating someone else’s identity as a legitimate farmer.  
I piled the geodes I had hoed up in my rucksack and headed off to visit Clint. When I told him they were for him to keep because I couldn’t afford to have them busted, he struck a deal that he’d break them if he could keep any ores they yielded. He got some copper to smelt with and I ended up with a couple minerals I could sell. It felt good to recoup at least a few of my losses, even if it was on the town blacksmith’s charity.  
Deciding it was too hot to mess with the farm any more, I wandered to the library to read a bit while feeling guilty that I wasn’t donating the minerals in my rucksack. When the book on fishing proved a bit dull, I decided to head into Pierre’s to chat about the seeds that would be coming in the summer to confirm that, yes, it would be too expensive to try another season on the farm. Pierre could sense my darkening mood because he plucked a daffodil out of a bouquet and handed it to me as he was closing up shop. I tucked it behind my ear with a sad half-smile.  
“It won’t always be this hard,” he said, sounding fatherly and earnest.  
I didn’t have the heart to tell him that “it” had apparently been dead on arrival.  
I stepped out into the warm evening and closed my eyes to face the sun, soaking up its rays. I stretched and inhaled deeply, giving myself a moment to take in the sounds and scents of Pelican Town after five. It seemed like everyone moved about in the evenings and it was nice to experience it for what might be one of the last times.  
When my eyes opened, he was standing a few feet in front of me, his eyes fixed on my hips. I felt myself blush, but I just deepened my stretch and waved.  
“Come on.” He bobbed his head towards the south. I gathered up my rucksack and saluted.  
We began to walk to the south and west, but I registered that we weren’t really heading towards the Stardrop. “I thought tonight was on you?”  
He smirked. “It will be.”  
Oh. I nodded, smiling at the ground.  
When we got to Cindersap Forest, he took my hand and led me out onto the dock. “I come out here sometimes,” he explained.  
I looked out across the water, sparkling gold in the setting sun. “It seems like a great place to be alone and think.”  
He smiled an odd smile at me, brushed his thumb over my knuckles, then knelt down. I saw that he was fishing a line out of the water. “Or be alone and drink,” he mumbled, pulling up four beers hanging from a yoke. He handed me one. It was surprisingly cold from being down in the lake.  
“Clever,” I said with a chuckle, kicking off my shoes. I rolled up my shorts and plopped down on the edge of the dock.  
His eyes traced from my toes to the cuff of denim, but he said nothing. He downed a beer and tossed the can over his shoulder. I heard it clatter against the old boards, and I turned my head to make sure it didn’t tumble off into the water. The sound of another beer opening by my ear made me jump. Shane drank it and discarded it just as quickly. He glanced at me. “I hope you’re okay with the fact that I’m going to rip a righteous burp in a second,” he said, his eyes smiling even if his lips weren’t.  
“I think I can deal,” I answered with a laugh.  
He flashed me a boyish grin. “D’ya wanna swim?”  
I almost said no, but I checked myself when I realized that I had put in a hard day’s work without hitting the showers. I blushed, then nodded. “Sounds nice right now,” I half-lied.  
I stood up to get undressed, figuring that I might as well make it a skinny dip. I craned my neck to be certain that we wouldn't be seen. I turned my back to Shane and pulled my shirt over my head, then shimmied out of my shorts. I glanced over my shoulder to see him watching me. He had pulled off his hoodie and cargo shorts, but seemed to hesitate. Realizing that not everyone is a show and tell kid, I gave him some privacy by diving in. Sure enough, he was in the water just moments later.  
The cool lake made him bolder. He swam up behind me and ghosted a hand over my hip. “Nice, right?”  
“It's hard to get used to how remote everything is here,” I thought aloud. “Can you imagine trying to take a naked swim in Zuzu?”  
“Mayor Grace doing the breaststroke around Ferngill Fountain?”  
I barked with laughter, turning and splashing Shane playfully. I cried, “Oh, too gross!”  
We smiled at each other, each treading water. He caught Pierre’s daffodil floating in the water and put it back behind my ear. The sky beyond him was fading into pastel pinks and blues, giving way to night. A few stars had begun to twinkle into view.  
“I can’t believe I won’t be here to see the summer.”  
“When are you headed out?”  
I sighed. “I don’t really know. I can’t afford an apartment yet, so I might have to stay ‘til I sell the place.”  
Shane was looking at our reflections in the surface of the water.  
“I mean, we had offers after Grandpa died. Shouldn’t be more than a week.”  
Shane looked up. “Well, you’ll get to see early summer in the Valley. It’s nice.”  
I shrugged, lying back and stretching out to let myself dead float. “I’ll miss the stars when I go.”  
Shane copied me, and we just bobbed in the water, side by side, until night fell in earnest. The breeze was warm, carrying in the promise of longer days.  
“C’mere, Pruney.”   
I sat up in the water and saw him moving toward the lake’s edge. I swam in that direction, and felt the water grow more shallow. Soon, I was tip-toeing over smooth stone. He placed his hands on my hips and helped me sit up on a large rock jutting out into the lake. The stone was warm from a day of sunshine and I was mostly out of the water sitting there.  
I started to ask if he was getting out when he nudged my knees apart. Making eye contact, he pressed a kiss to my thigh. I shivered and he nipped at the skin with his teeth.  
I rested my weight on my palms and scooted forward, urging his attention along. He smirked up at me, letting his hands roam over my thighs, belly and vulva. At length, he dipped his head and began to kiss. Featherlight, at first, then with tickling brushes of his tongue. But before I knew it, his tongue was working against my clit, his head nodding. I was moaning, rocking against his face for more contact.  
He groaned, and I realized I could hear the water splashing around his arm as he worked himself under the surface.  
“Fuck,” I sputtered, biting my lip. I drew a steadying breath. “Let me touch you.”  
Without looking up, he chided, “Nicely, please.” He pulled my clit between his lips and sucked.  
I meant to ask, “what?” But it became “Www—ah! Yessssss!”  
“Asshkt nishlffffff—”  
“P-please. Please let m-me touch your cock,” I pleaded.  
He sat up. I saw his arm move in three hard pumps, and his eyes locked on mine. “Good girl.”  
I was catching flies, but I didn’t care. I had always thought hearing that in bed—or, well, wherever—would feel cheesy or condescending, but nope. Just so. Fucking. Hot.  
He hauled himself up on the rock to lay beside me, and I let my eyes linger. He had what my friend Annalise would call a “dad bod”: just a little fat in the belly, but arms and a chest that hinted at someone who at least used to be pretty active. I reached forward and let my fingertips touch his pecs, trailing downward. The dark hair was rough. When my fingers slipped over his paunch, he averted his gaze for a moment. Clearly, it was an uncomfortable spot for him.  
I let my touch trail along his hipbones as I sat up and swung a leg over until I was straddling his thighs. “Tonight’s on you, ya say?”  
He nodded.  
I gripped him with one hand and angled my hips against his cock. While I worked my hand up and down his length, I circled my hips to grind my clit against its tip. He looked confused for just a moment before gripping my sides to steady me and straining to contain his grunts of enjoyment.  
I moved my hips up and down, loving the feel of him so near the place I suddenly wanted him most. My fingers and his cock rubbed deliciously against my slick folds, bumping over my clit, making me dizzy. I could feel his hips and thighs tense beneath me, fighting in vain to buck into the sensation.  
“You naughty thing,” he managed between groans. “Humping my cock out here where anyone could see you.”  
I laughed, but my fist began to work faster.  
“Oh, that’s it,” he sighed. “Make us come.”  
I gasped a moan, drawing loops with my hips, feeling how my wetness had drenched him. His hips were pushing harder, desperately trying to set the pace, and it only spurred me on. I mumbled curses as I rocked against his dick, desperate to feel his firm skin sliding over my clit, desperate to see him come apart beneath me.  
When I felt his legs try to splay, when he clenched and gasped my name, I looked down to watch his cum splatter our tummies.  
My fingers kept working over my clit and though he was half-hard against me, he still bumped his hips up against me, whispering encouragements that I barely understood. His fingers slipped under me, two digits penetrating me. I bounced against them, rubbing myself furiously until everything felt dim and heavy, then suddenly wide open, my body twitching with electric bliss.  
Faintly aware of my body, I slid off him to lay on my back. He clasped his hands behind his head, staring up at the stars. We lay in silence a while.  
“Why don’t you have a girlfriend?”  
He chuckled darkly. “Do I need one?”  
“I mean, you do you,” I answered, rolling so that I could look up at him. “But you’re so much fun to fuck.”  
He gave me a faint smile. “This is Stardew Valley,” he sighed. “Everyone knows everything around here. The second someone looks sideways at somebody else, everybody is planning a wedding. Can you imagine a fucking breakup?”  
I sucked air between my teeth. “Yeez.”  
“Anyway, folks around here don’t really do ‘fucking’.”  
I thought about that. I could definitely see his point there. One drunken night, Pam had told me she suspected Marnie had a backdoor man, but she couldn’t pin it on anyone just yet. I wondered unkindly if casual sexual encounters ran in Shane’s family.  
A thought struck me. “So you think I do ‘fucking’?”  
He looked a little surprised. “Yes,” he answered.  
I laughed. “Usually not,” I replied, lying back to look up at the sky once again. “I’m usually more of a long-term gal, but. I guess there’s exceptions to every rule.”  
“Not for me,” he said, his voice serious. “I can’t do making love.”  
I thought about that. A little part of me wanted to feel sad, but instead, I felt relief. I was on my way out of the valley, so that put these romps squarely into perspective; he didn’t want me to think about him after I left. Message received.  
“C’mon, Daffodil,” he sighed. “Let’s find your shorts.”


	3. A Surprise Visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shane shows up unannounced. The Farmer is not pleased.

Shane and I hadn’t made plans—and I felt like giving myself a little space from him, anyway—so I had settled in for a night of vegging. My hair was slopped up into a bun, my jammies were mismatched and my dog was the perfect foot warmer. All signs pointed to a quiet, peaceful evening in front of the boob tube.  
Needless to say, when three hard knocks sounded on my door, my bowl of popcorn went flying. My heart hammering in my chest, I stalked across the room, muttering that somebody better be dead or bringing me a million gold.  
When I threw the door open, I was startled to see him standing there. Even though he had told me he knew where I lived, it was still a little shocking to have him on my doorstep. Right away, I could see that he was maybe a little drunk but definitely in a dark mood. There was a tiny thrill tickling the back of my brain, but mostly, I was annoyed that I’d lost my popcorn.  
“Yeez, Shane, you scare me half to death,” I grumbled.  
He lurched, fingers knitting into my hair, his lips clumsily finding mine. He gripped me greedily, but it was too sudden for me to have any interest in it, no matter our chemistry.  
“Hang on a minute, buddy,” I chuckled, holding him at arm’s length.  
He frowned.  
I frowned back. “I don’t even get a hello?”  
I watched his jaw work. He spat, “All I’ve done all day is talk, talk, talk. I’m sick of fucking talking.”  
I rolled my eyes. “Two questions. Please.”  
He steadied himself, inhaling deeply. He looked disgruntled, but compliant.  
“One: why are you so angry?”  
He snorted. “Morris. Joja. This goddamn town.”  
I bobbed my head. Enough said. “Two: why are you here, half drunk and pushy?”  
His eyes burned into mine. “I want to lose all that in your pussy.”  
I crossed my arms, giving him a warning look. “I’m not a balm for your shitty day, Shane,” I huffed. “You may not use my vagina as a dumping ground for your grumpiness.”  
His lips pinched and the fire in his gaze cooled.  
I gestured down my frame. “I made a date with my TV tonight, Shane. Since you didn’t ask to see me,” I explained. “You may join me and The Queen of Sauce, or you can go. Your pick.”  
He looked me up and down, and I saw it register on his features that he had indeed interrupted my intent to do nothing. He swallowed. When he spoke, his voice sounded strained. “What’s she cooking?”  
I leaned against the doorframe. “It’s a rerun. Radish Salad.”  
Shane made a face. “Not my favourite, but I’m sure she’ll sell me on it.”  
My smile was lopsided. I rolled back, giving Shane clearance to step inside my home. I watched with some amusement as his eyes roamed the space, taking in my “studio” accommodations.  
“It’s...”  
I laughed. “It’s a wee shitbox. Even smaller than my ratnest of an apartment in Zuzu,” I said, snatching up throw pillows to make room on the bed for him to sit. “Honestly, I don’t know how Gramps lived.”  
He pushed his lips to one side. “It was just him, right?”  
I nodded. “The way I understand it, there was another room built on when my dad was a kid, but they tore it down when Gramps started getting older,” I explained. “Less to keep up.”  
I flopped down and patted the bed beside me. Shane settled onto the mattress stiffly, resting his elbows on his knees as he let his eyes continue their appraisal of my little home.  
Suddenly, he asked, “Do you like it here?”  
I sighed. “Yes,” I answered honestly. “I hate that I have to leave.”  
Shane was looking at the floor.  
“Do you like it here?”  
His expression went hard, but his eyes didn’t move. “I don’t think I really like anything.”  
I frowned. “What about Marnie and… um… the girl?”  
He looked up. “Jas,” he supplied.  
“Jas. She’s your…?”  
“Goddaughter.”  
I had assumed she was his daughter because their hair had the same wild purple sheen. But a man raising his goddaughter with his aunt? How did that happen? I looked at Shane intently, but his profile gave nothing away but gloom.  
“They would be better off without me.”  
I shook my head. “Somehow, I doubt it.”  
He sighed.  
I let the moment linger, and slowly, our eyes moved to The Queen of Sauce. He began to relax and so I tucked my legs up on the bed, lounging on my side. He laid back and used my hip as a pillow, and I was happy to let him. The QoS began to carve her radishes into little rosettes, which seemed like absolute overkill to me, and I said so.  
He snorted. “I mean, it’s Radish Salad for fuck’s sake. Dress it up all you want, but it's still just rabbit chow,” he joked. “And honestly, that seems cruel to the rabbits.”  
I laughed. I batted my eyelashes and adopted a sugary tone. “Oh Shane, won’t you bring me a bouquet of radishes for lunch? There’s nothing more romantic than pink sour potatoes you’ve manhandled for an hour.”  
He chuckled, craning his neck to look up at me with a smirk, his eyes narrowed in evaluation. “You’re funny.”  
“Your face is funny.”  
“Har har.” He was smirking in spite of himself. He let his eyes wander back to the TV where a preview was coming on for the next episode. “Ooh, Pumpkin Pie. Now that’s a little more like it.”  
I hummed in agreement, watching as The Queen of Sauce appeared on screen, decked in orange and holding up a little pie pumpkin. The set was a moody fall sky. She carved it into a Jack-o-Lantern before making pie, and my heart clenched with nostalgia.  
“I’ll have to come to town for the fair,” I thought aloud.  
He lifted his head, but said nothing.  
“I mean, that’s a season and a half away,” I said. “But I just couldn’t miss seeing the valley in full fall colour.”  
He looked thoughtful. “And maybe I’d run into you.”  
“Maybe.”  
“You wouldn’t want to miss the giant wheel of cheese Marnie has been aging for her grange display,” Shane laughed to himself. “It’s, like, comic book large.”  
We smiled at each other, and his expression grew warmer even as our smiles dimmed.  
“What?”  
“I like being a couch potato with you,” he replied. He gestured around. “Or, y’know. A bed potato. Whichever.”  
I beamed. “Great, because I’m really, really good at it,” I said, letting my voice grow silky. “I could lay around in bed all day and night.”  
“Could you now?”  
I let my fingers comb through his hair. “I mean, definitely, especially if I had some good company.”  
He drawled, “I’m not sure if I’m good company...”  
I laughed. “Well, naughty company is just fine, too.”  
He sat up and looked at me. “If I promise that I’ve been properly chastised, can we still fuck?”  
I covered my face to stop my laugh. “You’re incorrigible.”  
He walked his fingers up my thighs, tickling me through my thin jammie bottoms. “I am,” he said, sounding surprisingly serious. He let his eyes catch mine. “But I am sorry.”  
I smiled at him. “Oh, thank Yoba,” I exhaled, hopping up to straddle his lap. I caught his face in my hands. “Because I want to fuck you.”  
We were a tangle of lips and limbs then. His right hand fisted in my hair, keeping my head within reach of his lips at all times. His left hand cupped me through my pants, the thin fabric rough against my clit as he rubbed circles over it with his thumb. I moved my hips against his hand, grinding into his lap, feeling his hard cock beneath my ass.  
“You’ve soaked through your pants,” he teased. “Does somebody want to get fucked?”  
I nodded between kisses. “Please.”  
“Please what?”  
I groaned into his lips. “Please fuck me. Please fill me,” I pleaded.  
His grip tightened in my hair, and he was completely still, his pupils so wide, his dark eyes filling my vision. “Turn around.”  
I scrambled around to go on my hands and knees. Suddenly, I realized I was still completely clothed and I started to get undressed.  
His fingers encircled my wrists. “Ah-uh.” He guided my hands forward to the headboard. I grabbed it and he seemed satisfied.  
All at once, I felt his hands at my waist, resting on the flesh exposed there. Slowly, his hands pushed my top up, his fingers going up my sides. I shivered as his hands moved forward, cupping my breasts as they hung heavy from my chest. He caught each of my nipples and tugged them slightly toward him, then let them loose, making my tits sway beneath me.  
Slowly, his hands slipped back down my sides, catching my bottoms and sliding them down, caressing my hips as they went. I shivered as my wetness was exposed to the cool night air.  
His fingers started at the top of my tailbone, then trailed down. I inhaled sharply as he touched me so intimately, knowing that his eyes were fixed in those spots.  
I heard him moving behind me, and I shifted restlessly when I heard his zipper.  
“Greedy,” he teased.  
“Needy,” I corrected.  
“Do you want me to wear a condom?”  
I hesitated.  
“I’ve been tested. All clear. How about you?”  
“Yeah, all good. No condom,” I found myself saying, a little out of breath.  
He nudged my legs a bit further apart, then scooted closer. His cock slapped down on my ass, heavy and firm. He worked the tip up and down along my slick folds, and I shivered.  
“So wet,” he sighed. “So good.”  
I felt him go still, and I bit my lip. The tip of his dick nudged its way inside me so slowly that it felt neverending. He groaned behind me. “So good,” he repeated.  
He gripped my hips and pulled me to him, then pushed my hips forward at a snail’s pace, pulling me back just as slowly.  
Finally feeling him so deep in me was wonderful, but I wanted so much more. My hips began to work impatiently against him. I felt his fingers dig into my skin, and his grip all but halted my movement. “No ma’am,” he bit. “Tonight, you will take it how I give it. Is that understood?”  
I took a deep breath.  
His voice came softer. “You can always tell me if you want to stop or take a break, okay? And I want you to let me know if it’s not working for you.”  
I nodded at him over my shoulder.  
“Then will you let me fuck you my way?”  
“Yes,” I answered.  
I could hear his smile: “Good girl,” he sighed.  
Still holding my hips, he filled me with one hard thrust. He slid out slowly, then pounded into me again. Slow back, hard and quick in. Over and over, me gasping with every slap of flesh on flesh.  
“Since the minute you downed that beer I bought you,” he said between grunts, “I’ve wanted to be balls deep in you.”  
I grinned.  
“Watching you rub your greedy cunt all over my cock,” he sighed. “I wanted to be in you so fucking badly.”  
He leaned forward, his breath warm across my back. His voice was a sing-song: “But you wouldn’t let me...”  
“Nuh-uh,” I agreed. “I wanted to come.”  
He chuckled. “And do you want an orgasm now?”  
I breathed, “Yes.”  
He pressed a kiss in the middle of my back. “And what if I say no?”  
“I don’t think you can stop me.”  
He laughed. He began to thrust, shallow and fast. When I tried to wiggle my hips to meet him, to add friction, to do anything, he would tighten his hold without missing a beat. When it was clear that I gave up on trying to run things, he slipped in deeper and reached forward to grab a shoulder, changing the angle. Instead of shallow pumps, he was moving in short strokes deep inside of me. My head spun with the delicious pressure of it.  
“I’m going to cum in you so deep,” he said through gritted teeth. “You feel so fucking amazing.”  
He began to fuck me with longer strokes and faster, his thighs moving slightly side to side as he worked. He sped up, fingers digging into my shoulder, and all at once, he went quiet. After a moment, he exhaled, curses spilling over his lips as he filled me with three pumps.  
He collapsed against my back, and I let go of the headboard. He was catching his breath, but I felt deeply awkward. When the silence was too much, I finally asked, “How was that?”  
“Do you still want that orgasm?”  
“Yes?”  
“Then turn the fuck around.”


	4. Switchback

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conversation the Farmer had been dreading ends differently than she expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And suddenly, I give you plot! haha

I inhaled deeply, giving myself a moment to prepare. I was six feet away from what I knew would be the most uncomfortable conversation of my life. Far surpassing my dad’s mumbled attempts at broaching the subject of sex with a mortified thirteen-year-old, outgunning my decision to turn down the local college’s offer of a partial scholarship, putting my resignation from Joja Corp to shame.  
No, this conversation would be much, much harder.  
“Lewis, could I have a minute of your time?” I cleared my throat and added, “In private.”  
He blinked at me, his expression frozen. Beside him, I saw Marnie pretend to be uninterested while watching my every move out of the corner of her eye.  
“Of course,” he said, finally smiling. “Anything for the granddaughter of my best friend!”  
Oh shit. Here we go.  
He stood, leading the way past the bar. He waved to Gus, what I assumed to be a Pelican Town hand signal for “I’m commandeering your private dining room”. As we stepped inside, I realized it was every bit as cozy as Alex had said. I felt a twinge of regret that I’d never enjoy a candlelit dinner in there, feasting on Gus’s best dishes with some handsome fella.  
Lewis turned, tucking his thumbs in his suspenders. “What can I do ya for?”  
I swallowed, taking a seat at the head of the table. Lewis slipped into the seat to my right. “Well, you know that this spring has been one for the books. Too much rain.”  
He nodded. “Oh yes,” he sighed with a nod. “My flowers didn’t do well at all! My blue jazz bloom upended itself right out of ground in my flowerbed. Shame, that.”  
I swallowed again. “Well, it wasn’t good for my crops, either. I spent just about everything I had on potato seeds. The buds were all shrimpy and a lot of ‘em didn’t make it. Blight took hold in a patch of ones that did,” I sniffled, unexpected tears falling. “Everything else split and rotted with all this on and off rain.”  
“Oh, that’s just awful!”  
I bit my lip, steeling myself. “I can’t afford new seeds. I can’t afford to stay here, Lewis.” I looked at him full in the eyes for the first time since sitting down. “I’m going to have to sell the farm.”  
Lewis looked so sad. Not disappointed, but a bit like he’d just lost his friend all over again. I could sympathize. When I realized it was all over, I did feel like I had failed Gramps, but that wasn’t it. For the first time, I felt his absence. He wasn’t there, guiding me from beyond. I was all alone.  
I hung my head. It stung to be letting Lewis down, too. He wanted me to revive the farm and all of Stardew Valley. I realized my cheeks were burning with shame.  
“Well,” Lewis sighed beside me, shifting in his seat. “That just won’t do.”  
My head snapped up.  
He pulled out a little notebook and a pencil from his pocket. He scribbled something down and tore a slip of paper out, handing it to me with a flourish.  
“Give that to Pierre. He’ll be giving you twenty packets of seeds in both the summer and fall on my account. You pick the seeds, don’t worry about the price,” Lewis explained, tucking the notebook back into his vest.  
I stared at the paper, my eyes unseeing. “Lewis, that’s—that’s much too generous! I couldn’t—“  
He chuckled. “It’s not generous at all. It’s just a loan. I’ll expect you to pay me back,” he said. “But you don’t even think of paying me back until this time next year.”  
I stared at him, tears in my eyes. Twenty seeds wasn’t a winfall, but it was a lifeline.  
“Anyway, it’s an investment in Pelican Town,” he said with a shrug. “Getting some new fresh produce in Pierre’s would really stick it to JojaMart!”  
I nodded. It wasn’t really his job as mayor to be making loans, but I knew that having a farmer in town would be a huge win in his fight to keep JojaMart from shutting down the local businesses. Pierre’s would be the first casualty, but without his store—and his tax revenue—Pelican Town would be in a pretty precarious position. Like every other small town in the Ferngill Republic, as soon as Joja had shut everybody else out, they would jack up their prices and eat up every extra goldpiece from every pocket. Lewis’s included.  
“I—I hardly… I hardly know what to say,” I said, stumbling over my words. “Thank you.”  
“You’re most welcome,” he said, sounding only a little self-satisfied. “But if I may impart a piece of advice, don’t go monoculture. Plant a variety of seeds rather than pinning your fortune on a single crop.”  
I nodded. “That sounds like a plan,” I agreed.  
We shook hands, and just like that, I had hope.

“Shane!” I waved at him from beside the bridge. His eyes swept from side to side, and he looked very self-conscious. I realized he probably didn’t want to be seen with an overeager girl, but I simply did not give a single shit. “I have the best news!”  
He jammed his hands in his pockets and jerked his head to one side, signaling that he wanted this conversation to be a little more private. I followed him around the back of JojaMart. When we were firmly out of view of the townsfolk, he gestured for me to go on.  
“I talked to Lewis today about selling the farm and--”  
“Oh!” He smiled. “You have a buyer already?”  
I shook my head. “Way better! Lewis gave me a little loan to keep me on my feet ‘til winter.”  
Shane blinked at me, frowning with confusion.  
“Shane, I don’t have to leave!”  
“What?” He did not sound pleased at all. He did not sound like the man who was excited to be a couch potato with me just the night before, nor the man who wouldn’t leave until he counted off three of my orgasms. He didn’t even sound like the town grump. He just sounded angry.  
“I—I don’t have to move out," I explained weakly. "I’m staying on the farm.”  
“Well congratulations, Farmer,” he said, sarcasm dripping from his tongue. “I’m so glad for you.”  
He strode past me before my mind could even process his words. I wanted to catch up to him, to ask him to explain himself, to feel his touch, but something left my feet cemented to the earth. “Fuck you, too,” I called after him.


	5. A Needy Touch

I stared at the ceiling fan, silently praying for it to turn into a giant, pristine A/C unit and bless me with wintry cold breezes. My overcooked flesh was begging for the freezer case at Joja Mart or Arrowhead Island in winter. Instead, I was treated to the faint movement of humid air in a too-hot cabin.  
Why had I chopped down all those lovely, lush shade trees, again?  
I felt sticky and annoyed. I had apparently showered off a long, sweaty day of work just to settle in for a long, sweaty night of not sleeping.  
I wiped the salty trickles from my throat and collarbone with a sigh. I was surprised to find my mind drifting to Shane, suddenly remembering rough touches. It had been several days since he had given me the rude send-off, and not seeing him had honestly been almost too easy. Tending to my plants consumed my days and I spent my evenings chasing fireflies and forageables.  
But there in my cabin, all alone with my drifting thoughts, I realized I actually missed feeling his stubble scratch my belly, my tits, my thighs.  
Experimentally, I pulled my nails lightly across my left breast. I shivered pleasantly.  
I bit my lip, glancing over at the phone. I could call him. I’d wake the whole house up, but wouldn’t it be worth it? I could tell him I was still pissed, but that I wanted him to meet me, anyways. In the woods, in the Community Center, in my sweat dampened bed. I could tell him that he could spill that bitterness all over me, lose it in me. I’d let him.  
My cheeks burned. I shook my head at the phone.  
Slowly, I slipped my left hand down my body. I let my hand drift to where I needed it most, cupping my mons the way he had the first night we made out. I dragged my middle finger across the wet slit, grinding into my palm. I gave my nipple a hard tug with my right hand and sucked a breath between clenched teeth.  
I began to circle my clit with my finger, keeping my eyelids wrenched closed to hold his face in my mind’s eye. The way he leered at me, splayed out in front of him, his arm working his cock beneath the water. I remembered his gravelly voice as he told me to turn around...  
I flopped over on the bed as if he were ordering me to do it on the spot. I rested my weight on my chest and knees so that my bare ass and pussy were exposed to the night.  
I returned one hand to my clit while the other grabbed roughly at my left breast under me on the bed. I pulled, tugged, rolled and twisted my nipple as I rubbed my clit faster and faster, focusing on the thought of Shane behind me, digging his fingers into my hips, fucking me.  
I panted, loosing curses into the sheets as I remembered Shane’s soft lips sucking my clit, wishing for that sensation from my fingertips. My hips bucked, angling for more friction, more contact.  
Shane would give me that and more. He would lick me, lap me up. He would sink his cock deep in me, then draw agonizing circles over my clit while sucking my nipple, kissing my neck, grabbing my ass. His beer-tainted breath would blow chilly over my skin while he told me he was going to fill me with his cum.  
I felt an orgasm prickling through my belly, but it was fluttering and sudden. I gasped and moaned, but it just wasn’t enough. I needed to feel wrung out.  
Turning over, I reached over to open my nightstand drawer and pulled out a glass rod I’d brought from the city. It was a work of art, glossy and pleasantly curved with ribbons of multicoloured glass running through its core.  
I slid it up and down my slit teasingly. In the summer heat, the dildo felt icy against my flushed lips. I turned it and held the thick tip at my entrance, pulling a deep breath in. With agonizing slowness, I pushed it inside and shivered. I pulled and pushed it into myself a few times to get it nice and wet. Then, without much warning to my conscious mind, I began it pound it in. My lips sputtered attempts to call his name.  
I wanted him to find me just like this, so desperate for him. Fucking myself while thinking only of him, his dick, his cum, his fingers, his lips.  
I could feel tightness growing in my belly. I began to flick my fingers over my clit as I moved the toy even faster into my sloppy depths, moaning and cursing, soaking my sheets below me.  
Finally, the tight band of pressure snapped and I was falling into the warm, singing pleasure of my orgasm. I could feel muscles flutter as I swirled my sopping fingers around my clit, groaning with release.

I woke earlier than I had hoped, but didn’t have much time to fuss about it. I watered the crops, chopped down a tree sprout that had been giving me grief and cut back some weeds. By the time I checked my watch, I figured I had just enough time to go foraging up north before the crowd got too thick. I found a nice, plump Spice Berry that I thought might be good enough for the Governor’s taste buds.  
When I arrived at the beach, I found myself truly impressed by the spread. Bottles of wine, hot pots, turkeys, hams, pies and beautiful little appetizers were everywhere. I was so enchanted with the spread that I almost missed two dark eyes watching my every move.  
“We should talk,” he said, peering at me over an arrangement of Summer Spangles.  
I inhaled sharply. “Sure, let’s go somewhere private.”  
He chuckled darkly, holding his hands wide. “Where’s private?”  
I looked around the beach. It was a fair point. Just about every nook and cranny was littered with townsfolk. “After,” I answered with a nod. “My place?”  
He looked unsure for a moment, but then nodded. Abruptly, he pointed to a bowl on the table. “You don’t get hot pepper chutney like this in the big city,” he said, turning to go. “You should try it.”  
I was dubious at first, concerned with its vibrant red colour. Bravely, I popped a chipful in my mouth. My cheeks flushed and my tongue tingled, but a taste of pickled melon was a wonderful, complex contrast to the heat. I let my eyes find Shane’s form, where he was leaning against the bar. A smile spread across my lips. Abrasive, but so, so worth the burn.


	6. Touchy

“Pilfered these from the Luau,” he explained, passing two large brown bottles through the door.  
I frowned at them, turning them over to glance at the homemade labels. Two haphazardly drawn suns smiled up at me.  
“A white ale with summer oranges," he explained. "Perfect summer drink."  
“I’m not really into beer, Shane.”  
He shifted on his feet. “Give this a try,” he insisted. “It’ll win you over.”  
I exhaled. “Come in. You’re letting in mosquitoes.”  
He stepped in and pulled the screen door to. I latched it behind him as he strolled across the room and took a seat on my bed.  
“So you’re staying for sure?”  
“Looks that way. Did you see the field as you were coming in?” I leaned against the cabin wall. “The crops are doing well enough that I think it’s going to work out, after all.”  
He frowned. “Have you told anybody?”  
I blinked, confused. “Told anybody what?”  
His frown deepened. “About us.”  
The conversation was suddenly overwhelming, so I took the beers and sat them in the chest I was using as a makeshift pantry, fussing over their placement next to the flour. I took a few steadying breaths before I turned to face him. “No,” I answered with a sigh. “No, Shane, I have not told anyone that we necked behind the bleachers.”  
His eyes were dark. “I told you. This town—” he sighed, raking his fingers through his hair anxiously. “Everyone talks. I hate that.”  
I flopped down on the bed beside him. “Shane, I don’t make a habit of blabbing to the world about every dick I touch,” I said, trying to keep my voice light. “Especially not in a podunk town where I’m the New Girl.”  
His expression softened. “Okay,” he sighed, sounding somewhat relieved. “I just—honestly, I just wouldn’t have done it if I knew you were staying.”  
“Excuse me?”  
“I’m not saying I regret anything,” he said quickly, eyes wide. “But I don’t make a habit of letting people in the valley touch my dick.”  
I grit my teeth. “So you’re giving me the kiss-off.”  
He hesitated.  
“Holy Yoba, Shane,” I groaned. “Are you fucking serious?”  
“It’s just—I know how this ends,” he sighed. “You’ll get pissed or want more or I’ll get too intense and you’ll break it off. And then suddenly, everyone will know our business.”  
I rolled my eyes. “Wow,” I coughed out. “Shane, is that what you honestly think of girls?”  
His lips flattened. “It’s been my experience.”  
We stared at each other in silence. “Well, that’s not me,” I said at length. “But I want you to consider that you’re not the only one with something to lose here. I honestly don’t want it to get out that I’ve turned the Community Center, the lake and my grandfather’s cabin into dens of sin; I don’t think Lewis could handle it.”  
He drew a deep breath, his eyes focusing on the tips of his shoes. “I’m sorry I got short with you about you staying in the valley. I’m actually glad for you. I’m sorry I’m being weird about this.”  
“Thank you.”  
“Can I see you tomorrow?”  
“See me as what? Friends? Strangers on the street?”  
He looked up at me, his eyes clear. “I want to fuck you. Tomorrow, and maybe every night this week.”  
“Then yes,” I answered. “Come see me after sundown.”

 

I let my legs dangle off the dock, the water inky purple, swallowing my toes up into its depths. The breeze coming over the lake was almost chilly after such a hot day. I stole a glance over at him, bare-chested and silent, looking up at the sky. I took it as an okay to snag his hoodie, which I dragged on over my naked frame, pulling my knees up to my chest beneath the fabric.  
We sat in silence. The cicadas were winding down in the trees, giving way to owls and the pregnant stillness of night.   
We had run half-dressed from my stifling hot cabin to catch the cool night air on the lake. Of course, when we hit the dock, he had stripped me and bent me over the railing. I would probably discover a splinter or two on my belly in the morning. Again, I found myself baffled that he wasn’t in a relationship of any kind with anyone else. Then again, maybe I was just assuming that he wasn’t secretly fucking anybody else..?  
“When was the last time you had sex,” I asked impulsively, “before me, I mean?”  
He squinted at the stars a moment, thinking. “Maybe eight months?”  
I thought about that a second. “After you came to the valley?”  
“Uh–yeah,” he exhaled, clearly uncomfortable.  
“Somebody from the city?”  
He shook his head.  
I tried to seem nonchalant as I pried; “Oh, someone from here, then.”  
He nodded, not saying anything for a long moment. “We had a lot in common. Or I thought so, at least. It started out as play-fighting and gridball after dark, but–” he trailed off. “Well, you know how it goes.”  
I chuckled. I couldn't imagine any of the girls in Stardew Valley playing gridball with Shane, and I said so.  
He leveled me a look in the dark. “None of the girls, no.”  
I blinked. “You’re bisexual.”  
He tilted his head to one side and started chewing on his thumbnail, his eyes suddenly avoiding mine. “Yeah.”  
My mouth hung in a stupid little “o”, but no sound came out. I leaned back against a post, feeling my brain flesh out my fuzzy mental outline of Shane as a person.  
“Is that weird for you?”  
I shook my head. “Just processing new information here,” I reassured him.  
Shane’s lips pinched tight, but he remained silent, letting me think. He was sitting cross-legged, his fingers fidgeting anxiously in his lap as he looked over the edge of the dock into the water. With his bent frame and eyes hidden beneath those dark lashes, he seemed almost sheepish.  
“I’m just trying not to ask who,” I supplied.  
He shook his head, not looking up. “Not my place to say, anyway.”  
I nodded. “Of course,” I breathed. “I guess it didn't work out between you?”  
“No,” he answered sharply. Slowly, he turned his eyes to me, his face very serious. “Does this change anything? It's okay if it does.”  
I shook my head. “Not for me.”  
Shane looked relieved. “Cool,” he exhaled, his shoulders relaxing.


	7. Heated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shane visits on a hot summer day. He's in a mood.

I sighed, wiping the sweat from my brow. The summer heat was oppressive, even though the season was nearly through. When he was alive, my uncle had always called them the Dog Days of Summer, which I in turn had always made into a joke (“Really? Why’d they name it after you, Pete?”) But standing in the angry gaze of the sun, I couldn’t even spare a chuckle in his memory.  
“You here?”  
I turned to face the entrance of my farm, where Shane had called from. I waved widely to catch his attention. “Over here!”  
He walked slowly to me, his eyes moving over the field, taking in the fat melons by my feet and stalks of corn swaying in the breeze overhead. “How’s it going?”  
“Good,” I heaved out in another sigh.  
He stood silently, his fists in the pockets of his cargo shorts, eyes still casting about.  
“C’mon,” I huffed, nodding toward the cabin. “It’s too damn hot out here.”  
He followed me in wordlessly, standing in the corner while I undid the bibs of my overalls and cleared sitting space in the bed. “Get us some beers,” I ordered over my shoulder. He pulled a bottle out of the chest and frowned at it. The orange ale he’d brought by a couple weeks ago had gone untouched.  
“Well, you get to be here when you prove me wrong,” I said, opening the lid with a satisfying pop. I turned the bottle up, swished it and swallowed it. The liquid was cool enough to me, but anybody else would call it warm. I tossed my head. “‘sokay.”  
He took the bottle from my hand and swallowed a long drink. “It’s better cold,” he grumbled.  
Moving on. “So what brings you by here so early?”  
His frown deepened.  
“Shitty day?”  
He nodded, eyes fixed on the floor.  
I pulled in a deep breath. “Wanna talk about it?”  
He shook his head, rubbing his stubbly chin.  
“Okay,” I exhaled. I dropped my overalls and started pulling off my shirt. I saw that I had his attention. “C’mon, let's wash the shit off.”  
His lips quirked into a half-smirk. “What?”  
“A bath, stupid.”  
He looked a little adrift for a moment before his eyes went warm. “Undress me.”  
I blinked, taken aback at the sudden switch. I stepped in close and grasped the hem of his polo, peeling it upwards.  
He caught my wrists, forcing me to drop the fabric. “Slowly.”  
I searched his face. His features were stony as he released my hands.  
“Yes sir,” I heard myself say.  
His smirk returned.  
I slipped my hands down his chest, feeling his muscles tense as I moved my fingers along his body. I caught the edge of his shirt and moved it up at a snail’s pace, letting my touch brush his skin. He held my gaze, breaking it only when I pushed the collar over his head. I let my hands graze down his arms before reaching for his belt. I pulled it roughly, biting my lip to hide a grin as I snaked it out of his belt loops.  
His eyes blazed. “That’s one.”  
I blinked. One what? I didn’t ask, but instead tossed the belt onto the bed. Gingerly, I reached for his fly.  
“On your knees,” he barked.  
My eyes flicked up to his. He pointed down, the way you might order a dog.  
I hesitated.  
“That’s two,” he growled.  
I swallowed and sunk to my knees. He stepped closer so that I had to crane my neck to hold his eyes. He reached down and unzipped, then waited.  
“Go on,” he prompted, after a pause.  
A little unsure, I reached in to pull out his cock. The sharp pull of breath was all the encouragement I needed. I gripped him tightly and pursed my lips at the tip of his dick, slowly opening and pulling him deeper. He groaned as I slid my tongue around and pulled back.  
“Good girl,” he sighed.  
I smiled up at him, then cocked my head to pull his frenulum between my lips. He hissed, gripping my hair in a tight fist. I kept my kiss fastened to the spot, kneading the skin and brushing it with my tongue while he fought to keep his hips still. I cupped his balls with one hand while the other kept me upright on the floor.  
“Your mouth,” he bit out, his voice strained.  
I scooted back quickly and pulled him deep into my mouth. Three shallow thrusts and my tongue was slick with his cum.  
It was a good minute before I realized he was stroking my hair idly.  
“How about that bath?”  
“Undress me,” he replied, his voice tired but content.  
I pulled his shorts down and helped him out of them. He offered me a hand and I stood on shaky feet.  
As I turned to head to the bathroom, Shane’s hand wrapped around my hip to halt me. His other hand slid between my legs from behind. His fingertips pressed into my clit while his hand rested over my vagina. “Somebody liked making me cum,” his voice teased.  
“You, sir, have absolutely no proof of that accusation.”  
He slipped two fingers into me. “I suppose not.”  
I bit my lip, trying to remain composed. “And annn-nyway, even if you d-did,” I stumbled, “Who would you tell?”  
“Hm. That’s a fair point,” he agreed, burying his fingers to the hilt. “Can’t take my case to the mayor.” He turned his wrist and began to tap at my g-spot as I fought to stand and spread my legs at the same time. His lips found my shoulder while his hand pressed against my belly. “Guess we’ll have to settle this the old fashioned way.”  
Weakly, I managed, “How?”  
“Well,” he drawled, turning me in his arms. His fingers resumed their work on the walls of my cunt while the other hand toyed with a nipple. “I suppose if someone didn’t like making me cum, then they probably wouldn’t want to come, either.”  
I was already warm in the cheeks, but I knew I was somehow blushing even more deeply. “Well, nobody said thaaaat–”  
“No, no, I think the logic checks out,” he sighed. He pulled his hands away and shrugged.  
“No!”  
He feigned a look of deep thought. “No, I think it makes perfect sense.”  
“No, I…” I felt my lips wobble in uncertainty. “I want to.”  
“Pardon?”  
“I do,” I pouted.  
“Do what now?”  
I huffed, feeling deeply self-conscious. “I want to. Come.”  
His face was suddenly very serious. “So what are you saying?”  
I blinked. “What?”  
His eyes were devious. “I want to hear you say it. Tell me why you want to come.”  
“Well, your fingers–”  
He shook his head.  
I swallowed thickly. “Because I liked making you–I liked your cum in my mouth.”  
His smile was like a wildfire. In the blink of an eye, he was everywhere, his lips on my pulse while he worked my clit, fingers pummeling my g-spot as he clutched my naked body to his. “Such a good girl,” he whispered in my skin. “I need you to come for me.”  
And I wasn’t about to disappoint him.


	8. A Few Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An overdue conversation

I scooped some conditioner and spread it between my palms. “So why did you come here this evening?” I hung my head to the side and ran the creamy goop into my hair as I waited for him to answer.  
“Shitty day,” he finally said, his gaze fixed out the window.  
“Uh-huh,” I nodded. “More words, please.”  
He sighed, looking down into the tub. “I... “  
I waited, watching as he struggled to find the words. His eyes shifted back and forth, searching for a place to start.  
“I don’t–remember how I said I don’t...” He heaved an exasperated sigh and finished, “I don’t know.”  
He gripped the top of the half-wall, leaning over to dip his head under the weak stream of the overworked shower head. I watched beads of water trail down his back, skimming over his ass. A little twinge of lust made me bite my lip as I let my gaze shamelessly soak in his form.  
He looked at me over his shoulder, snapping me out of my distraction. “We should talk.”  
I pinched my lips and nodded. “Yep.”  
“After you get clean and dressed," he insisted. "I don’t think we’ll make much progress if we try to talk naked.”  
I wrinkled my nose. “Well, not to disappoint, but this–” I pointed at my hair, coated in conditioner and piled up on top of my head, “is gonna sit for at least an hour, so if you can resist all this hotness, I think we’ll be good.”  
He pursed his lips. “Maybe hop into a robe?”  
I chuckled, “Deal.”

  
We finished washing up. I lent him one of the t-shirts I usually slept in and he pulled on his boxers. As promised, I wrapped up in my robe and took a seat on my bed. “Ready?”  
He nodded, but said nothing, not sitting down.  
“This is kinda your show, buddy,” I reminded him.  
He nodded again. “I… I don’t think I’ve been…” He fished around for words again. “Exactly fair.”  
I felt my forehead crease.  
“Or… maybe I mean… like, responsible?”  
I frowned. “I’m a little lost, Shane.”  
“We’ve been doing–” he gestured between us, “THIS, and you haven’t exactly known the rules to the game, ya know?”  
I cocked my head in total confusion.  
He started picking at a spot on the floor with his toes. He mumbled a small confession: “I maybe like sex that’s a little rough.”  
I sputtered in false shock, “No way!”  
He glanced up at me and made a face that told me he was really going out on a limb, so I checked myself. “Yeah. I caught on,” I said with a small smile that held back a good-natured chuckle.  
“Well…” He cast his eyes to the side. “I’ve maybe been holding back.”  
“Okay.”  
“A lot.”  
I swallowed. “Okay…”  
His eyes met mine. “Tell me you’ll stop me when you get freaked out.”  
“Okay.”  
“Okay you’re freaked out, or okay you’ll stop–”  
“Okay as in keep talking.”  
“Oh,” he exhaled a little anxiety. After a beat, he started again. “I told you I don’t do ‘making love’. That I do ‘fucking’.”  
I nodded. “I remember.” I added, “And you thought I did ‘fucking’.”  
He pulled a long breath in. “And you said you didn’t, usually.”  
I nodded again.  
“But we have been.”  
“Yeah." I added, "Nice summary.”  
He frowned at my sarcasm, but pushed on, “I think we’ve had fun and I think you like fucking me.”  
I nodded confirmation, feeling my cheeks go hot.  
“I–I started this because I thought you were leaving. That I could fuck you and never see you again,” he sighed. My eyes slipped to the floor. “That it couldn’t get weird if you were just going to disappear in a few weeks. That I could fuck you and forget you.”  
I pinched my lips and swallowed down the feeling of a stone on my chest.  
His voice came softer, “But you’re staying. And I feel like–I’m thinking that maybe I don’t want to forget you.”  
I looked up at him. His jaw was set in a tense clench, but his eyes were gentler, kinder. I balled my fist to fight the urge to touch his stubbly cheek.  
“But if this keeps happening, I want it all on the table,” he said, finally taking a seat beside me.  
“Then lay it out.”  
He pushed out a breath and ran his fingers through his hair. He mumbled, “Yoba, I’m so fucking bad at this.”  
I put a hand awkwardly on his shoulder. I knew he launched into this conversation with no parachute, and it was endearing, but he was clearly flailing. “How’s this, you collect your thoughts and I rinse this shit out of my hair. Deal?”  
He met my eyes. “Deal.”

  
I stared out the window and let the water trickle over my head and down my back. I pretended to be lost in thought, but actually, I just wanted to keep my eyes anywhere but on him. He was lying on my bed, rubbing his eyes, cursing to himself. I knew he needed time, but I could only wash my hair for so long.  
_Rougher._  
I was trying not to let myself jump to conclusions about what that might mean. I couldn’t picture Shane as some sort of secret leather daddy–mostly because I couldn’t begin to picture where Shane would locate the studded leather assless chaps my mind kept circling. But whips? Chains? Handcuffs? Red skin and running mascara and his hand on my throat and–  
Holy _Yoba_. Let’s shake that mental picture off.  
I exhaled sharply and turned off the shower. I wrapped my hair up in a towel, threw on my robe and walked back to the bed with an efficiency that surprised even me. “Ready?”  
He sat up. “I want you to feel safe. I want you to feel like you can always say no.”  
I blinked. “Of course.”  
“No,” he insisted, shaking his head. “This is important. I need you to know you can always say no. You can hit pause. You can stop me. You can tell me to leave. You can say you never want to see me again and I’ll respect that.”  
I nodded, sinking to take a seat on the bed beside him. “Okay.”  
“I want you to know that you’re running this show,” he said with a curious intensity. “I’ll tell you I’m running things–sometimes, I’ll say it in nasty, vile ways–but it’s always gotta be with your permission.”  
I felt my eyebrows seesaw with confusion.  
“I want to do fucking filthy things to you. I want to do them because it’s what I want, but I want you to enjoy every last one of them.”  
My breath caught. “O-okay.”  
“But I always want you to know what you’re getting into. And I always want you to want to do them. And if you don’t want to do them, I don’t want to do them,” he said. “Make sense?”  
I nodded, but a thought was prickling at the back of my mind. He could tell me a hundred things he wanted to do with my body, but in a bigger way, would I ever really know what I was getting into with him?  
“Yes,” I said, sounding more than a little uncertain. “But, like. What kinds of things?”


	9. Hanging

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our farmer gets a taste of what Shane likes.

I eyed his handiwork, gnawing on my lip. My gaze traveled up a thin rope slung over a rafter and knotted intricately above my wrists. My two fists were bound parallel and held up above my head.

“On your tippy-toes,” he said, his breath on my shoulder.

I went up on my toes, clasping the rope with my fingers and holding on for balance, forcing me to lean awkwardly with my butt out. His hands gripped my hips, holding me steady. He went flush against my backside.

“Oh!”

His chuckle was foggy between my ears.

“I–I think I’m getting it,” I mumbled. I had told him I couldn’t envision the position when he described it, so he went home and returned with a bag of tricks to demonstrate. I don’t know whether I was feeling brave, reckless or just thirsty, but I had agreed without caveat. 

Suddenly, I was a little unsure.

“Ready for phase two?”

I nodded, but he sensed my hesitation. “Just another little binding. Your ankles this time.”

“Okay.”

I heard three clicks behind me. “Spread ‘em.”

I blinked, confused. The toe of his sneaker nudged between my ankles. I awkwardly waddled apart, having to go higher on my toes as my legs spread wide. Shane knelt down behind me and I felt him wrap my ankles with leather bindings. I looked down to see a metal bar between the restraints.

He stood, letting his fingers trail up my legs. His hands cupped my ass on the way up, and he nipped at the flesh. 

A little breath sputtered out between my lips and my head swam, which sent my knees wobbling. I snapped to attention and gripped the rope for dear life. “Whoa!”

He laughed, standing to his full height. “Let me help you with that.” He moved across the room to my bookshelf. He came back with two hardbacks. He ordered, “Left foot up.”

I looked down and lifted my left foot, awkwardly shifting my hips so that my weight was uncomfortably rested on my right foot. He slid the book under and I tested the ropes at my wrists. The tension was definitely less and staying upright was easier on my left toes as he slipped the second book under my other foot.

“Better?”

I nodded.

“You can stop me at any time.”

“Do we—do we need a safe word?”

He chuckled. “‘No’ or ‘stop’ will do just fine,” he said. “I’ll even answer to ‘Shane, that’s fucking weird’.”

I wanted to shoot him a look, but he was still behind me. My head tossed a little to the side.

His hands gripped my head from behind. His voice was pure gravel as he barked, “Eyes ahead.”

I mashed my lips together and focused on the wall. I nodded.

“I’m sorry, Farmgirl. I couldn’t hear that.”

I blinked, confused.

“What should you say when I give you an order?”

I swallowed. “I–I’m not…”

“How about ‘yes sir’?”

“Oh.”

He stepped around me, a beer in his hand. His eyebrows were up, his expression one of impatience.

“Uh… yes sir?”

One corner of his mouth quirked up. He popped open the beer and sat on the bed.

We faced each other in silence, me growing more uncomfortable and uncertain by the second as he sipped his beer. Slowly, his eyes began to move over my body, lingering on where the restraints held me. He finished his beer and sat the bottle on the floor, then unzipped and pulled out his cock. He began to stroke himself, letting little sounds of pleasure escape. His eyes were still on my skin, not meeting my gaze. I felt a little like a piece of meat in a butcher’s shop, hung up on a rack for salivating customers to stare at. It was awkward but I couldn’t deny the slick of my thighs. I wanted to close my knees and rub my legs together, to feel a little pressure, a little relief. I tried by my legs were far enough apart that it was difficult and uncomfortable.

A rush of breath pushed between his lips and he grinned at me, working his cock faster. “Something you want to say, Daffodil?”

My mouth fell open, and I wanted to form some sort of reply, but a needy little sound fell out instead.

“Oh? Because it seems like you want me to let you down so you can rub your greedy little cunt.”

I felt my hips angling again.

“Yeah, it seems like you want to dip your fingers in that puddle between your thighs.”

I groaned, letting my weight settle against the rope around my wrists as I turned my feet inward, my legs just meeting.

He stood, the hand around his dick not missing a beat. He went behind me, his breath at my shoulder as he worked himself. “It seems like you want me to push this dick–” which he pressed against my ass “–into your sloppy pussy and fill you up.”

I nodded.

“Hmmm? What was that?”

“Y–yes sir!”

“Oh, now that’s not very convincing,” he sighed. I felt his touch at my hip and I jolted at the sensation.

“Yes sir!” I gasped for air, “Please sir!”

Hot breath licked at my neck. “No.” His cum was hot on my ass and I swear, I felt every drop of it, wet and warm as it trickled down the curve of my skin.

He stepped in front of me, his face almost sheepish. He took my face in his hands and pressed kisses to my lips. He knelt and undid the restraints at my ankles and pulled a leg up on his shoulder, burying his kisses just where I needed them most. His lips surrounded my clit and he sucked gently as his fingers slipped in and out of me. My eyes were wrenched closed and all I could think about was him jerking off to my body on display and the cum drying on my behind. HIs name slipped from my lips and I twitched through an orgasm that sparkled behind my eyelids.

Dimly, I was aware that he was untying my wrists and half-carrying me to the bed, over and over whispering, “good girl.”


End file.
